


Tangerine Trees and Marmalade Skies

by majestic_shriek



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Drug Use, LSD, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-15
Updated: 2012-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-16 09:35:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/538049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majestic_shriek/pseuds/majestic_shriek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in 1960s California, Misha and Jared are enjoying the hedonistic pleasures of the decade. Trippy Mishalecki porn. For the prompt <i>living is easy with eyes closed.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Tangerine Trees and Marmalade Skies

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to [](http://akadougal.livejournal.com/profile)[**akadougal**](http://akadougal.livejournal.com/) for her utter amazingness in getting me through this, in cheering me on and for a quick beta read. Thanks also to [](http://obstinatrix.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://obstinatrix.livejournal.com/)**obstinatrix** for helping to channel this in the right direction ;)

They’re sitting there, the tabs, waiting. Misha hadn’t wanted to take them straight away: in these moments when he got Jared all to himself, which were rare enough, he liked to enjoy Jared in all ways possible. In all mindsets possible. Jared is still lying there on the bed in front of him, breathing heavily, chest rising in and out, in and out. He’s still blindfolded, and Misha reaches forward, stroking his hand against Jared’s chest. Jared inches closer, and Misha smiles. Fuck, he loves Jared like this, all strung out and fucked into breathless abandon, and he can’t wait to do it all again. It’s the summer of love, after all, free love for all. Well, almost all. Misha doesn’t pretend to think that the new attitudes of liberalism and sexual freedom apply to him and his ‘kind’ but they can’t hurt. Maybe eventually, it will be different. Misha doesn’t think about that too much, though, not when he’s got Jared with him, his Jared.

It’s not often he gets the chance to have these whole days with Jared, spread out across the full twenty four hours, neither of them with any obligations or need to be anyone else. Jared’s family’s out of town for the weekend, one of their excursions, and when that happens, Jared’s immediately at Misha’s door, and Misha’s welcoming him with open arms.

“Misha,” says Jared, lifting his hand to the blindfold.

“Hush,” says Misha, pulling on a pair of ratty sweats from the floor. They’re probably his. He bats Jared’s hand away from the blindfold. It’ll be coming off in a moment, but not yet. He wants the sight of Jared all to himself, one pair of eyes only, for just a bit longer. He sits down next to Jared on the bed, leaning back against the headboard, and he caresses his hand across Jared’s forehead. “You good?” he asks.

“You know I am,” says Jared, shifting closer to where he knows Misha is.

“Yeah,” agrees Misha, and he kisses Jared lightly. “Here, throw these on.” He throws a pair of boxers in Jared’s direction. Just for now, just for the next part. Jared understands, and shucks them on over his ankles and up around his hips, lifting them off the bed. Misha can feel himself thickening just from that movement; that arch of Jared off the bed, the rise of his hips. “You’re gorgeous,” he says, instead, and Jared smiles.

He’s even more gorgeous when Misha can see his eyes, and he can’t take it any longer. He lifts the blindfold up and off over Jared’s head, relishing the look in Jared’s eyes as he blinks in the sudden brightness. “Hey,” Jared says, softly, and Misha almost melts right there and then. This boy is his undoing. He would - he does - risk everything for this boy, and Jared risks as much for him. From the moment he met Jared, something spoke to him, and he knew that he needed - had to have - the boy. Jared risks just as much for him, that’s what Misha can barely believe, that Jared, who could do so much, go so far, risks everything just to be with him.

“You got the stuff?” says Jared, and Misha nods. It was Jared who got him into this, somehow. Much as Misha likes to believe that he corrupts Jared, the fact is that Jared corrupts him absolutely. When Misha had first met Jared in the club, he had seen his casual, beautiful face as entirely innocent, a youth needing Misha’s hand and guidance through the more... incandescent areas of their lifestyle, but Jared had very quickly proved himself to be anything but. It’s just one more thing to add to the long list of things that Misha loves about Jared.

“Here,” he says, reaching over to the bedside table, next to the lube, and hands over one of the tabs. “It’s new stuff, Rob says it’s good. Good strong trips and that, you know.”

Jared observes the tab in his hand for a second; it looks much the same as usual, except this one’s emblazoned with a moose. He raises his eyebrows at Misha, who shrugs. “Rob says Moose is the best out there at the moment.”

“He’s not been wrong yet,” agrees Jared, and he pops the tab on his tongue. Misha grins, and opens his mouth, letting Jared place the tab for him, kissing at his fingers as they withdraw. He loves doing this with Jared. They don’t do it all that often; Misha finds the trips quite draining, a lot of the time, but he loves it. It’s something he’s only done with Jared - something he only ever intends to do with Jared.

It doesn’t take long, or it never seems to, before the world’s changing before his very eyes. Misha always finds that colour, usually just one colour in the world around them, begins to dominate and ripply through his consciousness. Today, it’s the colour of Jared’s eyes. Suddenly, the whole world is Jared’s eyes. He’s tried to ask Jared what he sees when they trip, but Jared’s never great at articulating it. “Beauty,” he says, usually. “You, more beautiful than you’d think was possible. And it lasts.”

That’s enough for Misha.

Jared does seem to have the same fascination with his eyes, though, and Misha finds himself lost in them, swimming in a sea of hazel ripples, as time stretches out -- literally stretches out in front of them. He can see where they’ve been, and he can see where they’re going - he can see himself all fucked out, Jared all gorgeous lines and arches, patterns and swirls above him, he can see that ahead of them. Time changes when he’s with Jared like this, time loses concept and meaning and being, and everything just _is_. He lets himself go, dissolves himself into Jared until they are one and the same. He doesn’t know any more where he begins and Jared ends. That’s Jared’s arm, there, underneath him. That’s Jared’s hair, there, dancing across his cheek. Those are Jared’s lips, there, pressed against his in a drawn out kiss, that doesn’t begin or end.

This is why he fucking loves tripping with Jared.

They had a bad trip once, a dodgy batch of gear from before they hooked up with Rob as their dealer. Jared wanted to look at the stars and almost ended up walking off the roof. That doesn’t matter though, not when this beauty can be gained. What’s one more instance of breaking the law, after all, when their whole lives are illegal anyway? What’s a little danger when such brilliance can be achieved? They didn’t let it stop them.

Misha’s looking into Jared’s eyes, both of them, there, and it’s almost too much. He wants to look away, but he can’t. He can see himself and his love, his everything reflected there in what Jared’s seeing. “Misha,” says Jared, and his voice sounds miles and years away. “Misha,” he says again, pressing a finger to Misha’s lips, and Misha nods.

“You’re everywhere,” says Jared, with awe, and Misha never gets over how Jared sounds like this. Everything is everywhere, everything is him and Jared. “You’re fucking everywhere. You’re here, and you’re there, and you’re in all time, man.” Misha nods, and kisses Jared, running his hands down Jared’s back, back to the boxers. Why had he got them to put clothes on again? Wasn’t it just a disconnect between them and the world where there should be none? The feeling, though, the difference between the smooth alabaster surface of Jared’s skin and the soft cotton of his boxers is startling and amazing. He could feel that contrast forever. He does feel that contrast forever. “Fucking emperor of eternity,” Jared is saying, and Misha has no idea what he means, but he likes it, and he likes how Jared feels under his hands.

“Misha,” Jared says again, and Misha realises he’s closed his eyes somehow, even though the colours - the colour of Jared’s eyes, hazel and greens and a multitude of shades - were all still there. “Misha, I need you.”

Jared’s voice like that fucking kills Misha. It chimes and resonates within him, and he’d do anything Jared says. He nods. “Yes,” he says, “fuck, yes, Jared, I need to feel you. Can’t you see it?”

“I can see your heart,” replies Jared. “It’s beating for me.”

“Yes,” Misha nods. “It needs you inside me. But can’t you see, can’t you see the colours?”

“I see them,” says Jared, “I see you.”

The wall moves closer, pushes Jared towards him. Jared’s all around him. It feels like he has more than his two arms; there are touches everywhere, and Misha’s heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest. Jared places a hand over it. “Your heart is powerful,” he says, with a breathless awe. “It’s beating outside of your body.”

“For you,” Misha says, kissing whatever parts of Jared he can reach. “It does that for you.” Jared’s hands are all over him then, everywhere, and down towards his ass, where he enters him with a finger. It feels like more; it feels like the world is burning up inside Misha, and he’s not sure he can cope with any more.

“You feel like a perfect stream,” says Jared, and Misha knows and doesn’t know what he means at exactly the same time. “Your body is flowing around me,” Jared continues, “and fuck, its beautiful.” Misha gasps as Jared inserts another finger. He doesn’t know when Jared reached over him for the lube, but he must have done because his fingers are wet and slick, slipping in and out of him with relative ease now. Misha moans, and arches up towards Jared’s touch. He needs more of it, he needs to be utterly connected with Jared.

“More,” he says, “I need to be with you,” he says. “I need to be one.”

Jared huffs a laugh even as he keeps moving his fingers, crooking them up until he hits that spot inside Misha and Misha fucking howls. He always forgets how fucking amazing that feels when everything is extra and everything is right there. It’s like colours burst inside his brain just from one touch, and suddenly the world is blazing bright and perfect. Everything is clearer, everything is wonderful, just from one touch. Another, and Misha’s world is singing. He reaches forward, clutches for whatever he can grab, and finds Jared’s hair.

It’s so fucking smooth; Misha’s never felt anything so wonderful in his life. He loves Jared’s hair anyway, because he can grab it, and play with it, but right now, it’s the best thing ever. The softness against his hand feels like silk, and he strokes the hair again, cards his fingers through it, relishing the way it pulls and slides through the gaps. It’s almost - almost - the most wonderful sensation ever, but right then Jared is pushing against him, pushing into him, his full length. It’s tight, and Misha squirms against it, but the dual sensation of Jared’s hair and Jared’s cock is too much. It’s overload; his mind is blown. “Fuck,” he hisses, “fuck.”

Jared smiles at him, he thinks. It’s hard to see now, amidst all the colour and the feeling, but he can see the shape in the air, and he thinks it’s Jared’s smile. Jared says something, but it’s all just babble to Misha now, the cock moving in his ass and the hair running through his fingers proving all too much to deal with. The intensity is building; the relentless push of Jared’s cock against him; his own cock he can vaguely feel, rock hard and wet with precome, the utter intense pressure of it all. It feels like he’s burning from the inside out, but in the most incredible way. “Jared,” he tries, because he has to know if Jared is feeling the same, if Jared can feel it too, “Jared.”

Jared answers, but he can’t understand it; there’s just a stream of colour emerging from Jared’s mouth, and as much as Misha finds it the most gorgeous thing in the world, his boyfriend fucking him, spilling colours all over everything, he can’t understand. He thinks it’s good. The colours are bright. Misha can’t imagine that Jared would say bright colours if he didn’t feel bright things.

Jared pounds onwards, gripping Misha’s shoulders, and Misha can feel his orgasm building within him. It feels like his head is about to burst. There’s this pressure, a growing bomb of iridescence inside him and he needs to release it. He hardly notices when Jared’s rhythm falters, and Jared gasps into his shoulder, but then he’s filled from the inside out with Jared’s come. He can feel it coating him, slicking his insides, and he wants Jared to stay there forever. Jared moves a few more times, Misha thinks, but he can’t see anything but colour now, there’s just colour, peacock bright and surrounding them both. Jared’s highlighted in it, glowing in his release, but Misha needs, oh Misha _needs_.

The second Jared touches him, the bomb explodes, and Misha with it. He feels himself hit all the different parts of the room; he’s blown apart with the power, but there’s no blood, just rainbow streams of colour. “Jared,” he says, slightly panicked, because he’s all over the room. “Jared.”

“It’s okay,” says Jared, and he takes Misha’s chin in his hands. Misha takes a deep breath and looks into Jared’s eyes. “I’ve got you.” Misha breathes again, and he comes back together under Jared’s touch, but he’s still covered in colour.

“Fuck,” he says.

“Yes,” agrees Jared. “Can you still see them, the walls are dancing.”

Misha nods, and lies back against the pillow, pulling Jared down beside him. “I see it all,” he says, with an effort. “I always see everything when I’m with you.”


End file.
